


Fight or Kiss

by milestofu



Category: MindCrack RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milestofu/pseuds/milestofu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pause wants to fight. Arkas complies… Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight or Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, I will write Parkas at any given opportunity. Based on **[this](http://youtu.be/aSk5fLZiyxI?t=12m11s)**.
> 
> Originally posted to my Tumblr on 07/08/14.

It all starts because Arkas can’t help but to run his mouth. It isn’t one of his best traits―his sarcasm, and he’s well aware of that fact. Regardless, he can’t stop himself from telling Rob that he doesn’t need any golden apples because he’s a pro UHC player.

"You know what? I’m so sick of that attitude, Arkas," Pause says and it really isn’t expected. Arkas laughs. "We’re gonna fight."

They don’t fight (much to Guude’s relief), but it’s mainly because they aren’t able to. Same team and all that. Arkas suggests that they arrange to do it another time and after  _Revenge of Cookie_ is all said and done, Pause takes him up on the offer.

Thirty minutes of preparation on a freshly generated map and then they are to meet at 0,0 to have the duel of the century. Sounds like a great plan, right?

There’s fifteen minutes left to prepare and Arkas is halfway in a cave when he begins to regret his suggestion. All he’s managed to accomplish so far is gather some string―not enough to make a bow―and have enough iron smelted to craft an iron sword. Its heavy weight in his hand is somewhat comforting and he brings his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

He’s nervous. Just a little, though.

It takes him the remainder of the time left to get the string he needs for a bow and head back up to the surface. He’s ducked behind a nearby ridge just outside of 0,0 when an arrow whizzes by his head and embeds in the rock behind him. He jerks his head to look in the direction that the arrow came from and sees Pause perched on a nearby hill, a stone sword in its sheath on his hip, bow in hand, and a cocky grin on his face.

Arkas doesn’t panic. Nope.

He’s forced to duck further down when another arrow is shot at him and barely misses his shoulder. He swears under his breath and begins to move from behind the ridge. He can hear Pause calling out to him, asking him why he’s running and the sounds of hurried footsteps. He almost makes it to the safety of the nearby forest to get better vantage point with some cover when an arrow finally connects and pierces through his leg.

Less than gracefully, he stumbles and is able to catch himself on his hands and knees to avoid falling face first into the dirt. He’s reaching down, his fingers wrapped around the wood of the arrow when Pause reaches him and grabs him by the back of his shirt, hoisting him upward so his feet barely touch the ground.

"Frick."

"Not so pro now, are you, Arkas?"

With a sigh, Arkas concedes, “OK… You win.”

That really, really wasn’t much of a fight.

Pause, satisfied with the confession, sets Arkas down so he’s standing on the flats of his feet. It’s then that Arkas becomes aware of the throbbing in his calf and when Pause releases the back of his shirt, allowing him to stand on his own, he falters. Pause reacts, hooking an arm around him, keeping him upright, albeit slumped.

Pause asks, “Really got you good, huh?”

Arkas nods and smiles a sheepish, nervous smile. He moves his legs, trying to right himself to stand. He flinches at the pain the action causes, and falters again. Pause helps him down to a sitting position and then sits down cross-legged, and holds out his hands.

"Give me your leg," Pause says and when Arkas stares at him incredulously, he continues, "So I can wrap it. Duh."

Arkas hesitates, but complies. His eyebrows furrow together and he lets out a hiss upon moving his leg. Pause doesn’t seem at all fazed; he grabs Arkas’ leg and sets it down so it’s resting in his lap. Arkas barely suppresses a shiver of something he doesn’t quite recognize when Pause cups the back of his leg.

Pause’s eyes meet his then. “You ready?”

Arkas nods and braces himself, but he still lets out a whine from the back of his throat when Pause pulls the arrow out of his leg. Ripping off some the fabric from the sleeve of his shirt, Pause rolls up Arkas’ pant leg and wraps the fabric around the bloodied, pale skin of Arkas’ calf.

It takes a lot of effort for Arkas to keep still. It feels like his nerves are on fire and the blood coursing through his veins is buzzing. However, it isn’t too long before Pause has the fabric secured tightly around Arkas’ leg, his fingers colored a deep red.

"Thanks," Arkas says eventually. "I still think I could have won, though…"

Barking a laugh, Pause asks, “You think so?”

Arkas doesn’t really think so, but the stubbornness in him compels him to reply, “Yeah.”

"We can have a rematch," Pause says and his grin returns, showing teeth, "after I carry your ass back to the server."

Arkas gets the distinct impression that he’s being made fun of and when he goes to open his mouth to reply, to say that he was just caught off guard and that’s why he lost, he finds his words muffled by Pause kissing him, their lips pressed together.

He’s caught off guard for a second time (according to him, anyway).

It’s then that he realizes what the feeling of something was that he felt earlier. Fortunately, Pause pulls away as quickly as he leaned in and doesn’t allow Arkas to dwell on it too much. Pause’s grin has turned mischievous―challenging.

Arkas swallows thickly (his lips feel like they’re on fire).

"You can have your kiss back if you win the rematch," Pause says and Arkas isn’t sure if he understands what Pause has said. "Sound like a deal?"

"It… sounds like something," Arkas says.

"Close enough," Pause replies and rises to his feet, dusting the dirt from his pants before offering Arkas his hand. "Come on. We have to get back so I can tell everyone how much I royally kicked your ass."

Arkas frowns and ignores how Pause’s smile broadens.

Dangit, man.


End file.
